


Time in a Bottle

by sigh_no_more



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 05:46:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7087636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sigh_no_more/pseuds/sigh_no_more
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire and Enjolras had a good thing going. Grantaire needed legal counsel/an assistant, and Enjolras wanted to leverage Grantaire’s corporate connections for the greater good. Over the course of two years, they had built a fantastic professional relationship. Then Enjolras had to go ruin everything and quit.<br/>The gnawing feeling in Grantaire’s stomach is because he knows he’ll never find a replacement as good as Enjolras. He’s experiencing the normal amount of devastation one expects to feel at a colleague’s impending departure. That’s it. </p><p>(or a Two Weeks Notice au)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time in a Bottle

Grantaire hated Mondays. He was aware that he was part of the majority in that, and that it wasn’t a particularly original opinion. But still. Fuck Mondays.

"You look awful."

Grantaire groaned a response and hoped it conveyed the appropriate level of wretchedness. It must have, because Joly clucked worriedly.

"You stay there. I'll get you some breakfast."

Ten minutes later, Joly had brought Grantaire toast, eggs, bacon, coffee, and some greenish liquid that was Joly's signature hangover cure. Grantaire was a little afraid to ask what was in it.

"How's the head?" Joly asked from where he was curled up next to Grantaire on the frankly obscenely large bed.

Grantaire groaned again.

"That's what you get for trying to match the US women's soccer team shot for shot," Bossuet said from the doorway.

"No." Grantaire said, suddenly wide awake.

Bossuet ignored him and gave a shout of glee as he ran from the doorway and divebombed onto Grantaire's bed.

"Every time," Grantaire muttered as Bossuet snuggled up on his other side.

"You love it."

Grantaire secretly did. He had the best roommates. He had met Joly and Bossuet while in college. Joly was currently working his way through med school, and Bossuet was trying to figure out what he wanted to do with his life. Since Grantaire was the heir to Corinth Industries and had a stupid amount of money, he insisted his two best friends move in with him in his stupid big apartment. There wasn't a point in being rich if you didn't have any friends to share it with, Grantaire thought. It was nice to live with people who actually cared about him, and it kept his life from being a complete trainwreck.

"You know you have a meeting in an hour," Bossuet said, right on cue.

If Grantaire gave Bossuet a dollar every time he reminded him about an appointment or other basic task most adults were capable of handling themselves, Grantaire would be broke.

"Are you sure you don't want to be my assistant?" Grantaire asked.

"Positive. You're a nightmare. No offense."

He had a point.

"You really should get an assistant though," Joly said. "Someone to keep you on track when we can't."

"You sound like my dad," Grantaire muttered. His father sent him emails with increasing frequency, telling him he had to start taking more responsibility within the company. And that meant he really should get an assistant.

Grantaire had no interest in hiring an assistant unless it was someone he liked. Someone he felt he could trust.

His father's standards were a little higher. He hoped Grantaire would hire someone homely, because the one time Grantaire did have an assistant, they had slept together and Corinth Industries very nearly had a lawsuit on their hands. His assistant also had to be qualified, with a degree from a good school. Grantaire Sr. also wanted this imaginary assistant to have a legal background, so they could help Grantaire with his soon-to-be expanding role within the company. And they had to have a firm hand, Grantaire Sr. insisted. Someone who could actually get Grantaire to listen to them and be a responsible adult.

Fortunately for Grantaire, such a person did not exist, and so he remained assistantless, relying on the charity of his friends to keep him on track.

"Did you hear about the protest?" Joly asked, interrupting his thoughts.

Grantaire had spent the weekend on a yacht and had only crawled back to bed a few hours ago. "What do you think?"

"It was regarding the community center in Brooklyn."

"Uh-huh," Grantaire said, not having any idea what his friends were talking about.

Bossuet rolled his eyes. "It's a community center that's been around since the late 1800's. Your dad bought it, and wants to demolish it and rebuild some trendy condos. Some people protested it."

"How many people?"

"Well...three," Joly said.

Grantaire snorted.

"Don't laugh, they're getting some serious press," Joly said.

"Why?"

"They were arrested for trespassing, and as they were being dragged away by the cops, one of them proposed to another one of them, and they said yes. They're very determined. The leader especially. He has quite the flair for words and capitalized on the press they got. You haven't heard the last of Les Amis de l'ABC."

"Pretentious name," Grantaire said, draining the last of his hangover cure.

A few hours later, Joly would be proved right.

"Mr. Grantaire?"

“Yes- oh.”

Grantaire did a double take at the striking man in front of him. He was tall and slender, with fair skin that practically _glowed_. His blond curls gave him the appearance of having a halo. And those eyes. He had striking blue eyes, with a clear, direct gaze that made Grantaire weak in the knees like he was a teenager all over again.

“You’re Mr. Grantaire?” the man repeated. Grantaire stared at his rosy lips and wondered how they would feel against his own.

“Technically, Mr. Grantaire Jr.”

“Yes, that’s what I meant,” the young man thrust out his hand. “My name is Enjolras.”

“Charmed,” Grantaire said, accepting his hand and kissing it gently.

A flicker of amusement crossed Enjolras’s face.

“You don’t know who I am, do you?”

“No, but I’d like to.”

Enjolras let out a charming laugh, and Grantaire was completely captivated.

“Well, Mr. Grantaire-”

“Just Grantaire. Or my friends call me R.”

Enjolras leaned in, smiling coyly. His voice became slightly deeper, huskier. “Well _R_ , my name is Enjolras, and I represent a group called Les Amis de l'ABC, and I would love to talk to you about some of our projects.”

“Yeah,” Grantaire said, breathlessly. He would probably kill a man if Enjolras asked him to. “I’d love to- Wait a minute. Les Amis de l’ABC.”

He was so distracted by Enjolras’s proximity to him, by the delicious way he smelled, that it took his brain a few seconds to catch up. But when it did, he (regretfully) took a step back.

“Oh, fuck. You’re the guys who had that little ‘protest’ this weekend, aren’t you?”

Why had no one told him that the leader of the protestors was so hot?

Enjolras stepped back too, his expression decidedly cooler, as if he had heard the imaginary air quotes Grantaire put around “protest”. And oh no, Grantaire didn’t want that.

“Look, I’m sorry your protest didn’t pan out. But if you come with me, I’ll more than make it up to you.”

“So we can negotiate the community center?” Enjolras asked carefully.

“Er…no. But we can negotiate other things?” Grantaire said, trying to put his arm around Enjolras.

Enjolras scoffed. And what the hell? Grantaire was usually much smoother than this. Not that he _had_ to be. People were usually throwing themselves at him because of all his money. His smoothness was just an added bonus.

“I was hoping we could do this the easy way. That you might be willing to listen. But I can see now that I was mistaken,” Enjolras met Grantaire’s eyes and used that sultry voice again. “So we’ll have to do this the hard way.”

Grantaire felt his heart flutter (or another part of his anatomy flutter) at that, but then Enjolras smirked, like he knew exactly the effect he was having on Grantaire, and thought it was funny. Grantaire should have known he was a tease.

“Oh, come on. Just come with me, and we can have some fun. There’s no point a handsome fella like yourself wasting your time on a community center that we both know is going to get knocked down anyway.”

Enjolras bristled. “ _First_ of all, we don’t both know that. There are still plenty of legal hoops I can and will make you jump through before you can demolish that building. And I can do that because I happen to a lawyer. A very good lawyer, I might add.”

Grantaire perked up at this. “A lawyer, you say?”

“Yes. A good one. So my looks are completely irrelevant to this conversation. In fact, they should be completely irrelevant in any conversation. Beauty is just an excuse for people to exclude people who don’t meet conventional standards, or in your case, clearly, to dismiss me as just a ‘handsome fella’ who is ‘wasting my time’ on a very worthwhile endeavor to preserve a necessary part of the community. You won’t be so flippant when you see me in court.”

“Because you’re a lawyer.”

“Yes.”

“A good one.”

“As I said.”

Grantaire sized him up. He was articulate, intelligent, and definitely would be able to keep Grantaire in line. And he had legal knowledge to boot. Of course, Enjolras didn’t meet Grantaire’s dad’s prerequisite that his assistant be “homely”, but sleeping with Enjolras wouldn’t be a problem, mostly because Enjolras made it clear he had no desire to sleep with Grantaire, which Grantaire could respect. There were plenty of other pretty people who would love to sleep with him.

“Listen, I have a proposition for you.”

“You’ll reconsider the condominium?”

“What? Oh, no. God no. That’s not even really my decision. It’s part of my father’s plan, and he’s pretty set on them.”

“Then _what_.”

“I have a job offer for you.”

Enjolras raised his eyebrows. “A job offer.”

“Yes.”

“For me.”

“For you.”

He scoffed again. “Good day, Mr. Grantaire. I don’t expect to see you again, but I’ll be in touch with your lawyers, you can be sure of that.”

“No, you won’t, because the job I want to offer you is to be my new Chief Counsel. Slash assistant. We can work out the details later. The point is: I don’t have any lawyers for you to contact.”

“And what about the dozen or so Corinth Industries lawyers I know you have on retainer?”

“They all quit to join a cult.” If only. Grantaire hated dealing with the company lawyers. They were all soulless corporate types. Enjolras had more personality in his little finger than all of them combined.

“Well that certainly makes it easier for me to destroy you in court,” Enjolras said, pushing past Grantaire.

He practically leapt in front in front of Enjolras, shocking him enough so that he stopped trying to walk away. “Humor me. You could be my Chief Counsel.”

“What on earth makes you think I would ever consider that?” Enjolras scoffed.

“Because I’m a fuckup who has no idea what he’s doing,” Grantaire admitted. “My father wants me to start getting more involved in the business, and I’ll need someone to advise me, and that person could be you. Imagine what you could accomplish! I’m dumb, and also don’t particularly care about anything, so just think about what you could get me to do.”

Enjolras tilted his head. “Keep talking.”

“There’s something almost admirable about how you’re fighting the system. I mean, you kind of remind me of Caligula- you know, the crazy Roman emperor? He waged war against Neptune and had his men chuck spears at the ocean-”

“I know who Caligula is,” Enjolras said dryly.

“Right. Well, same sort of pointless, futile passion. But then imagine Caligula had like some dude come up to him with a giant sponge, so he could absorb all the water and then like rocket it into space-”

“So this ‘dude’ has a rocket as well as a giant sponge.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s not what you said in your ridiculous hypothetical.”

“Okay, well, what I’m saying is, I’m your dude with a giant rocket sponge. I have money and connections that you could use for good causes. You’d be my right hand man, and could use my position to help change Corinth Industries for the better. So you wouldn’t be some crazy guy throwing spears into the ocean.”

Enjolras took a step forward. “I resent what you’re implying about Les Amis. But I’ll overlook it and consider your offer on one condition.”

“What’s that.”

“You have to help me save the community center.”

 

**_Two years later_ **

"Get up."

Grantaire groaned as a pairs of pants hit him in the face. He rolled over, pulling the comforter securely over his head.

"Oh no you don't."

He absolutely did not yelp when Enjolras ripped off the sheets, blankets and comforter all in one swift motion. It was a dignified expression of surprise. Really.

Enjolras stood at the foot of his bed, looking supremely unimpressed. "At least you're wearing boxers this time."

Grantaire thrashed around the bed as his body tried to acclimate to the sudden cold and light all at once. Enjolras ignored his struggles in favor of reading his iPad instead.

"We have a meeting with your father in an hour. If you don't shower now, you don't get to shower this morning."

"That's like some violation of the Geneva Convention."

"It's really not."

"I think you're lying."

"You're right. I'm committing some terrible crime by depriving you of a shower. Perhaps you should hire a good lawyer and take me to court."

Grantaire squinted up at Enjolras, trying to do his best to glare. That was when he noticed one of Enjolras's cheeks was an angry red color. He scrambled out of bed and crossed the room so quickly, that Enjolras gasped when Grantaire was suddenly in front of him. Gently, Grantaire put his hand on Enjolras's jaw, turning his head so he could examine his cheek.

"What happened?"

"It's nothing."

"Enjolras."

"I told Irma that you no longer wanted to see her and got her to sign the NDA."

It took Grantaire's morning, caffeine-deprived brain a few seconds to catch up. "And she slapped you?"

"I don't blame her. It is pretty insulting to have your boyfriend's lawyer break up with you on his behalf, then immediately ask you to sign a nondisclosure agreement."

"She slapped you?"

Enjolras snorted. "Oh please. She's not the first, I doubt she'll be the last. She said you're impossible, by the way. I'm inclined to agree with her."

Grantaire felt his stomach sink. "I had no idea."

"I'm sure you had some idea that you're impossible. You couldn't have thought you were easygoing," Enjolras said with a forced attempt at lightness. He stepped away from Grantaire, and started rooting around the walk-in closet.

"I'll break up with all my future boyfriends and girlfriends myself from now on. I promise."

"I very much doubt that," Enjolras said.

"I will."

Grantaire hated hurting people, and was too much of a coward to ever break up with his partners in person. He was inclined to let relationships fade out, avoiding his partners until they gave up. But about six months after he started working for Grantaire, Enjolras got exasperated, and said it was much better to rip the bandage off. Better for Grantaire and the dumpee. So Enjolras matter-of-factly told Grantaire he would do the decent thing, and 'terminate' Grantaire's relationships for him, since he had to get the dumpees to sign an NDA anyway.

"We don't need to do the NDAs any more, do we?" Grantaire asked.

Enjolras emerged from the closet with a shirt and tie, which he draped on the bed. "Of course we do."

It was easy to see where Enjolras was coming from, from a legal standpoint. When he started working for Grantaire, almost every single one of Grantaire's exes sold sordid details of their romance to tabloids. Half of it was true, half of it was fiction, and all of it was a nightmare for Enjolras to clean up. Enjolras decided to stop the stories before they could cause any damage, and so the NDAs began.

"Not if you're getting hurt over them."

Enjolras sighed, as if Grantaire were the one being difficult. "It's fine. It gives them a way to vent their feelings. And they don't all slap me. Berenice and I got waffles. Paul and I still stay in touch.  We’re getting brunch next week."

"Enjolras-"

"It's my job to protect you," Enjolras said firmly. "Now go take a shower or we'll be late."

Grantaire shuffled towards the bathroom as Enjolras went back out to the living room. Despite what Enjolras said, it was completely unacceptable that multiple of Grantaire's exes had slapped him. If Enjolras was going to insist on doing the NDAs, then maybe Grantaire would just stop dating people. It wasn't worth it if he kept breaking up with them, and Enjolras kept getting hurt.

When Grantaire emerged from the shower, there was coffee waiting for him in a travel mug as well as a bagel, already toasted and smothered in cream cheese.

"Let's go," Enjolras said. He was already wearing his coat, and carrying a travel mug of his own. The slap mark on his cheek had already faded, much to Grantaire's relief.

While the the red mark on Enjolras’s cheek faded, Grantaire’s resolve to not put Enjolras in that position again did not. He wouldn’t date. It was as simple as that. If he didn’t date, then Enjolras wouldn’t feel the need to protect him, and would therefore not get slapped. And not dating would give Grantaire more time to focus on work, which he probably should do anyway.

"I want to talk to you about this Florida property you're trying to develop," Enjolras said, as if he had been reading Grantaire’s mind. (He was so good at anticipating Grantaire’s needs, that sometimes Grantaire was secretly afraid he _could_ read minds).

"You need to be more specific."

"The Florida one. Are you aware how vulnerable the ecosystem is on that property?"

"And yet we were granted permission to build," Grantaire said, shrugging.

"Any chance I could persuade you to not build on it?"

Grantaire raised his eyebrows. Every damn time, Enjolras would ask that, and every time, he would get shut down. It wasn't Grantaire's decision whether or not they build on a certain property. He was just in charge of making it look pretty when they did.

"Fine. It was worth asking."

'No it wasn't."

"Well, is your father set on a luxury hotel?"

"Probably."

"What if you built an eco-friendly one instead?"

And every damn time Enjolras would come up with some kind of compromise.

"Why would my father want to do that?"

Enjolras was prepared. As always. "It's only a matter of time before sustainable tourism practices are the norm. If you do a luxury hotel now, in twenty years, you'll have to do extensive renovations in order to meet the new standards. And never mind what happens in twenty years. Eco-tourism is expanding now. You'll have plenty of interested guests, and quite frankly, building something green would give Corinth Industries some much needed good publicity, and position you as an industry leader, so you’re not playing catch up in a few decades."

It was a good pitch. Enjolras had learned quickly that if he wanted Corinth Industries to do the socially responsible thing, he had to give a financial incentive too. Enjolras could tell that he was winning.

"Just imagine how good it'll look when Corinth Industries helps preserve manatee habitats."

"There are manatees at stake?" Grantaire exclaimed. "Shit. Next time lead with that! They're the cutest."

"The cuteness of the species we're trying to save is irrelevant."

"That's complete bullshit, and you know it."

Enjolras gave him just one long-suffering sigh, before handing him a project binder. "So you'll consider it?"

"I'll consider it," Grantaire agreed.

"There's also..." Enjolras paused, and bit the inside of his cheek.

"What?" Grantaire so rarely saw Enjolras hesitate.

"The community center."

There was only one community center Grantaire could think of. "That was taken care of. When you first started."

"It wasn't, though," Enjolras said. "All the bad publicity that surrounded it meant your father paused his plans to demolish it. But it's been two years, the outrage has died down, and so he's revisiting them."

It was kind of unbelievable that it was only a few years since Enjolras had lead the protests against the demolition of the community center. Sometimes it seemed like he had been a part of Grantaire's life forever. Grantaire wasn't sure how he had managed before Enjolras burst into his life.

"Well, you'll think of something. You always do."

Enjolras shook his head. "I knew it was only a matter of time before your father revisited his plans for the center. I've been brainstorming since I started working for you, but I'm afraid I haven't been able to come up with enough."

"I'm sure-"

"Grantaire, I'm not a modest person," Enjolras interrupted. "If I say I don't think I've been able to come up with enough, I'm not fishing for reassurance, or underestimating myself. I just can't think of a way to preserve the spirit of the community center and give your father enough of a reason to keep it, other than appealing to his basic human decency."

"Good luck with that," Grantaire snorted.

"Which is why I'm counting on you."

Counting on Grantaire for anything, historically, did not produce good results. "Me?"

"You promised me. When I took this job, you said that you would save the community center.''

"I did."

“So keep your promise.”

“I will,” Grantaire said. And he meant it.

********

Still, it wasn’t easy.

“Do you have any idea how much money those condominiums will bring me?” Richard Grantaire said.

“Not exactly-”

“Hundreds of millions.”

“I understand that.”

“Do you know how much preserving a community center will bring me?”

“Not hundreds of millions?”

“Now you’re catching on, son.” Richard said.

“Can’t you get some tax break or something if you save it?”

“Not hundreds of millions of dollars in tax breaks.”

“Good press?” Grantaire suggested feebly.

Richard scoffed. “We’re done talking about this.”

“Wait. Just give me some time. If you tear down the community center now, you’ll get a lot of bad press we really don’t need. I’ll only bring it up again if I think of a reason that’s beneficial to Corinth Industries.”

“Fine. But I don’t want any more of this bleeding heart crap. I’m running a business, not a charity. We clear?”

“Yes, Father. It was a pleasure as usual,” Grantaire said.

Now all he had to do was think of a brilliant solution that had evaded Enjolras for the better part of two years. Great.

He steeled himself for when he had to pass Enjolras’s desk, and was disheartened to see Enjolras scowling at his computer screen. Best not tell him about how his meeting went just now.

He fully intended to slink on by, but was caught off-guard by _what_ Enjolras was looking at on his computer.

“Is that-”

“I’m on my break,” Enjolras snapped defensively.

“But you are looking up strip clubs?”

“Again. Break.”

Grantaire folded his arms and leaned against Enjolras’s desk. Enjolras huffed.

“You’re not going to go away, are you?”

“I can recommend a few strip clubs if you’re looking for a good time,” Grantaire said, waggling his eyebrows.

“Could you? But before you say anything, how are the workers at these facilities treated? Are they willing participants and fairly compensated?”

“Can we just go back to why you’re looking at strip clubs?”

“Courfeyrac.” Grantaire’s confusion must have shown on his face, because Enjolras rolled his eyes. “My best friend, Courfeyrac? Who is getting married next weekend?”

“And you’re just now planning his bachelor party?”

“I was supposed to plan Combeferre’s bachelor party, which I did.”

“Who?”

“Combeferre. My other best friend. I know I’ve mentioned him.”

“Sure. So his wedding is coming up too?”

“Yes. Because he’s marrying Courfeyrac.”

“Sure. Courfeyrac. Your cousin.”

“Best friend. My two best friends are getting married, Grantaire. We’ve discussed this. I’m taking next weekend off to go to their wedding. But first we have to get through their bachelor parties. Marius, who is co-bestmanning for Courfeyrac was supposed to handle it, but he fainted when he googled strip clubs in the area, so I’m taking over, and in return he owes me a huge favor in the future.”

“So you’re going with them?”

“God no. No, Combeferre and I are attending a sleep-over at the Natural History Museum for his bachelor party.”

“Nice.”

“Lunch is here,” Enjolras said, peering past Grantaire to where a delivery boy was talking to the receptionist.

Grantaire’s stomach rumbled. “You ordered lunch?”

“Yes, and don’t worry, I got you the sandwich from the place.”

“With the cheese?”

“And the green sauce, with the red sauce on the side,” Enjolras said, getting up. “Meet you in the small conference room? We can talk about Thursday’s board meeting.”

Grantaire nodded, thinking again how lucky he was to have Enjolras there to take care of everything.

********

"Okay, you should be all set for the weekend," Enjolras said. "Remember, only call if it's an emergency."

It had been a week, and Grantaire still hadn’t figured out how to tell Enjolras about the community center. Avoidance had worked so far, so he was going to stick with that until he had thought of a solution.

"Got it."

Enjolras snatched Grantaire's phone from his hand. "What constitutes an emergency?"

"Uh....medical issue or death."

"Medical issue or death," Enjolras repeated approvingly. "Good."

He handed Grantaire's phone back to him.

“See you Monday,” Grantaire called after him.

He meant it. He really did. Friday night he hung out with Joly and Bossuet, and even met the girl they were trying to seduce. (They told him that they were trying to seduce this Musichetta, but Grantaire was pretty sure Musichetta was doing all the seducing). But Saturday, he faced a conundrum that only Enjolras could solve. So he texted SOS, then slumped onto his closet floor and waited. He didn’t have to wait long.

"Grantaire?"

"In here," Grantaire said from his position on the floor.

Enjolras raced in, looking positively frantic. He eyes swept over Grantaire. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"No, I'm not okay!" Grantaire held up two ties. "I can't decide if I should go with the gray or green one, and I have to be on TV Monday night."

Enjolras became deadly quiet. Grantaire tore his gaze away from the troublesome ties, and saw Enjolras, his face almost white with anger. He had seen Enjolras angry before many times. But he had never been on the receiving end of Enjolras’s anger. Oh sure, he had been on the receiving end of his annoyance and disdain. But never of his wrath. He suddenly understood why so many people agreed to settle cases with Enjolras instead of having to face him in court.

"You called me over here to help you pick out a tie? A tie for an event that's happening in two days?"

"Well, we are having a dress rehearsal tomorrow," Grantaire said reasonably. "I didn't want to have to choose a tie there and have everyone think I'm an idiot who can't pick out his own ties!"

"So instead you called me out of my best friends' wedding?"

Oh. Well...Fuck.

"Which best friend?" Grantaire asked.

"Both of them. Both of my best friends were getting married. To each other. We’ve talked about this!"

“So...you’re don’t prefer one tie over the other?”

“No, Grantaire, I don’t particularly care which tie I use to _strangle you with_.”

"Hey, don't put this all on me. This is your fault too" Grantaire didn't know where this sudden boldness was coming from, but he was going to grab onto it. "Why was your phone on during the wedding of your two best friends?"

"B-because," Enjolras sputtered. "So I could be reached in case of emergencies."

"Oh come on. You knew the likelihood of this being an actual emergency was slim to none."

He was guilty of, on occasion, many times, calling Enjolras with non-emergency emergencies.

"I couldn't have known it wasn't a real emergency. What if you got alcohol poisoning again? Or gotten hit by a car-"

"-that was one time, and it was more of a gentle bump."

"Or slipped and fell in the tub. Or had an allergic reaction. Or were choking on your own vomit somewhere?"

"If I were in any of those situations, I probably wouldn't be able to call you." Grantaire said.

Enjolras shot him a withering look. "But you have. You have called me about each of those things at once. And how could I live with myself if you called me and were somewhere dying, and I ignored your call because I thought it was a fake emergency?"

"Yeah, well..." That was actually a good point. "You know, I haven't had a real emergency in a while."

It was funny. Now that Grantaire was thinking about it, he had slowly been having less and less emergencies since Enjolras started working for him. He would chalk it up to being older, much as he balked at the idea. But really, he knew it had more to do with the combination of worry and disappointment on Enjolras's face with each emergency room visit caused by Grantaire's stupidity. How strange that Grantaire should care so much about upsetting Enjolras.

“You know, I think a little part of you craves feeling needed.” Grantaire was already in a hole so deep, he figured he might as well keep digging.

“Oh, do I, Grantaire? Do I _crave feeling needed_?”

“You’re upset.”

“Obviously.”

“I’ll send flowers.”

“ _Flowers_?” Enjolras said scathingly.

“Yes. To the grooms.”

“No you won’t.”

“Yes. Yes I will,” Grantaire said, suddenly feeling determined on this point. “I ruined their wedding, so I’ll send flowers, as an apology.”

“ _I_ messed up. I should have known it wasn’t a real emergency. I shouldn’t have left,” Enjolras said, running a hand through his hair, suddenly deflated.

“I’ll take responsibility,” Grantaire said desperately. He hated seeing Enjolras like this. So sad and… dejected.

Enjolras let out a bitter chuckle. “I don’t even think they were surprised at this point. I think they half expected me to run out of their wedding for this _job_. Why wouldn’t they? I was late to the wedding shower, and late to Combeferre’s bachelor’s party, completely missed the engagement party. I’ve been late to birthdays and left holidays early. That’s just who I am to them now.”

“No, that’s not who you are. You’re the most reliable person I know!” Grantaire said, needing to fix this. “And I mean, I also ruined your evening. So I’ll send you flowers too. And your date.”

“You’re not going to send flowers!” Enjolras snapped. Well, at least he wasn’t sad anymore. “You’ll get Joly or Bossuet to do it, if you remember to ask them.”

That was a good point. Grantaire wasn’t nearly organized enough to order flowers to be sent to multiple people. He wondered if he could write himself a reminder note in his phone without Enjolras noticing.

“Fine, Bossuet and Joly would actually send the flowers, but the sentiment is the same.”

“No, it’s not. You just do whatever selfish thing you want and expect us to enable you. You getting someone else to send me flowers isn’t enough to fix this.”

“Not just you. Combeferre and Courfeyrac. And your date!”

“Stop it with the date! I didn’t have a date!” Enjolras snapped. “I haven’t had a date in years because all I do is work. The most prominent relationship I’ve had in years has been with _you_.”

There was a flutter in Grantaire’s stomach. It took him a few seconds to recognize it as relief. Relief that Enjolras hadn’t brought a date to the wedding. How strange. He shook it off. It was just him being glad there was one less person for him to ask Joly and Bossuet to send flowers to. One less person whose evening he had ruined. That’s all.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Because it is a bad thing, Grantaire. I mean, Christ. I was supposed to come on as your assistant, then transition to full time legal counsel. But I’ve turned into your personal assistant slash legal counsel slash babysitter, and I cater to your every personal and professional whim. It’s not healthy.”

“I kind of like what we have going on.”

“Of course you do. Because this is a one-way street. I give and I give and I give-”

“Hang on!” Grantaire said. “This isn’t a one-way street. I let you make decisions. You get to do work for your causes.”

“I have to constantly compromise so I can work within the constraints of the company’s agenda. I don’t do nearly as much as I should for my causes, and in return I’ve given up my life these past two years.”

Grantaire felt like he was going to be sick. He had no idea Enjolras felt this way. “Okay. Well...we can talk Monday. Come up with a compromise that makes things easier for you.”

Enjolras shook his head. “I’m done compromising. I quit.”

He couldn’t do that, could he? Quit? Grantaire stared after Enjolras dumbfounded as he stormed away. This couldn’t be happening. Grantaire slumped down to the floor again.

********

Grantaire settled behind his desk, and turned on his computer, which took a while. He used to just turn off the monitor, but got so many pointed comments from Enjolras about this habit, that he shut it down every night. He decided to use this extra minute or so to savor his coffee. It was a Monday morning, it had not been a good weekend, and it probably wasn’t going to be a good week. He inhaled, closed his eyes and –

“What the HELL are you on about?”

Grantaire flinched, spilling coffee all over himself.

“Motherfucker!” he yelped, jumping to his feet. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

Enjolras stood in the doorway, looking more furious than Grantaire had ever seen him.

“You are unbelievable.”

“No, I shut down the computer all the way,” Grantaire protested. “Even though it’s massively inconvenient, you said it’s better for the environment, so I did it.”

His comment was ignored. “You had your friends kidnap me.”

Ah.

“Oh. That.”

“’Oh that?’” Enjolras repeated. “I was sleeping in, which frankly, after the weekend I had, I think I deserved, when suddenly I was scooped up in my blankets--”

“That explains the outfit,” Grantaire said, looking at Enjolras’s koala onesie. He tried not to find the fact that Enjolras slept in a koala onesie too endearing.

“Then I was carried down the hall in my blanket cocoon, and put in a car. A _car_ , Grantaire.”

“Are you more upset Joly and Bossuet kidnapped you, or that they didn’t use public transportation?”

“Both!” Enjolras said. “And they dropped me multiple times.”

“I didn’t tell them to kidnap you. I said to check on you, because I was worried.”

“Yeah, I got your eighty seven text messages, fifty one emails, and twenty voice messages.”

Enjolras was doing the scary thing he did when he was so angry, that he ceased shouting, and instead got quiet. Grantaire had seen him deploy this on many people in legal situations. He rarely had it applied to himself. He hated it.

“I’m sorry for being concerned.”

“You weren’t concerned about me. You just were begging me not to quit.”

“Did you listen to the last one? Because I don’t think you can just up and quit. You are contractually obligated to give me two weeks notice,” Grantaire said, slightly amazed with how level he was able to keep his voice.

“Excuse me?”

“In the contract _you_ drew up, you stipulated that you are obligated to give me two weeks notice before leaving.” Grantaire reached into his desk and waved the contract. Enjolras’s mouth tightened.

“Fine. Penalize me. I don’t care.”

“Well, obviously I’m not going to penalize you,” Grantaire said. What a ridiculous thought. “I just have to say, I’m disappointed. I thought you were a man of your word.”

Enjolras’s eyes flashed. “Fine. You know what, I will find a loophole in the contract that will allow me to quit without breaking my word.”

“You know a really talented lawyer drew that up, so good luck,” Grantaire said cheerfully.  Enjolras snatched the offending document from him. “By the way, I love the onesie.”

“Shut. Up.” He paused only to glare. “It was a gift.”

                                                            

Enjolras stalked back over to his desk. He changed into the emergency suit he kept at the office. Then for the next three hours, Grantaire was treated to watching Enjolras try and beat himself. He poured over the contract, pausing only to look up a thing or two online, trying desperately to find some loophole or mistake his younger self had made. But it was useless. He was too honorable to have purposefully written in any loopholes for himself, and he was too good to have made any mistakes.

Grantaire tried not to look too pleased when Enjolras stalked back in his office, and thrust the paperwork back at him.

“It appears you are correct. You are entitled to a two weeks notice. Which I am giving you now.”

That certainly got rid of Grantaire’s smugness. “Oh.”

He had rather been hoping that Enjolras would, after analyzing his contract, remember how much he loved his job and reconsider quitting.

“But,” Enjolras said, breathing in slowly. “Because I am a nice person, and since you have been decent to me, or as decent as I think you can manage-”

“Excuse you!” Grantaire said, feeling offended. He was a fantastic employer.

“In light of that, I will stay until you have hired my replacement, and I will train them. In exchange for this generous offer, you’re going to write me a glowing recommendation. You are going to be on your best behavior for the rest of my time here. And you are going to make sure the community center is saved. Those are my terms.”

It was a far cry from what Grantaire had been hoping for, but he realized it was the best he would get.

“Deal.”

********

The next few days were awkward to say the least. Enjolras immediately started looking for candidates to fill his position, while Grantaire came up with excuses why no one was good enough. Enjolras wasn’t fooled, and grew increasingly waspish as he tried to corner Grantaire and make him look at resumes. So it was suspicious when after about a week of Enjolras aggressively searching for his replacement, Enjolras cheerfully suggested he and Grantaire go out for lunch.

“O-kay?” Grantaire said, not sure what had brought about this sudden change.

“Perfect! I made a reservation for 1:00.”

They rode together to the restaurant, and when they arrived, Enjolras leaped out of the car.

"I have someone I want you to meet," Enjolras said, practically dragging Grantaire to across the restaurant.

"I thought we were just getting lunch together?" Grantaire grumbled, a little irritated at the thought of someone else intruding. For all that Grantaire thought Enjolras was a ridiculous idealist, he enjoyed his company. Meals with just Enjolras were rare enough as it was, and soon to be nonexistent, so Grantaire's hostility was completely warranted.

"Be nice," Enjolras whispered.

Sitting at the table was a tall, hulking man, whose muscles threatened to burst through his (admittedly) fashionable suit. The combination of sheer brawn, excellent fashion sense, and multiple tattoos that were peeking out of from his clothes made this man slightly intimidating. But when he spotted Enjolras, he beamed, and suddenly seemed more like a giant teddy bear than action movie star.

"Enjolras!" he boomed, standing up, and hugging Enjolras tightly.

"Bahorel," Enjolras replied. "This is my boss, Grantaire."

"Nice to meet-" Bahorel picked Grantaire up and squeezed him too, and it took him a second to catch his breath again. "-you."

"Thanks for letting Enjolras have a long lunch to catch up."

"It's funny, because you just made it sound like I have any kind of control over Enjolras whatsoever."

"I thought you were the big bossman," Bahorel said, sitting down again.

"In title only," Grantaire said darkly.

Enjolras, to his credit, didn't rise to the bait. Instead, he serenely scanned the menu. Grantaire and Bahorel took their cue from him, and no one spoke until they had all decided on what to order. When the waiter brought over a basket of bread, Bahorel dove right in.

"This is amazing. Can't wait for my actual food."

"It's one of the best restaurants in New York City," Enjolras said. He turned to Grantaire. "Bahorel just moved here."

"College friend then?" Grantaire guessed.

"Yep. Just got done backpacking around the world. Started in Iceland, and finished up motorcycling up South and Central America."

"He always talked about doing that in college," Enjolras quickly interjected. "And by college, I mean law school."

"Oh god," Grantaire said.

This wasn't a friendly lunch. This was an ambush.

"What?" Bahorel frowned.

"Look, I would be happy to interview you," Grantaire said to Bahorel. "But really, Enjolras, trying to trick me into meeting candidates? Subterfuge doesn't suit you."

Bahorel stared at him like he was speaking Chinese. "I'm sorry, interview me? For what?"

"Enjolras recently put in his notice, but he agreed to stay on until we could find his replacement. I've just been too busy to start the interview process."

"You're not too busy."

"Am too."

"I have total access to your schedule." Enjolras retorted.

Well, he had him there.

Bahorel looked back and forth from Enjolras to Grantaire, then back to Enjolras.

"Replacement?"

"I just thought-" Enjolras started.

His sentence trailed off when Bahorel started shaking. For a horrible second, Grantaire thought he was having a seizure, but then he realized that Bahorel was convulsing in silent laughter.

It didn't stay silent for long. Soon, a deep, booming laugh erupted from Bahorel, and didn't stop coming for at least a solid minute. He pointed at Enjolras, his finger quivering, yet he was still unable to form a sentence.

"You...you..." he said, before howling with more laughter.

Enjolras looked rather cross as he took a sip of his water. Then he folded his arms petulantly. "I just thought-"

Bahorel shook his head, cutting Enjolras off. Tears were streaming down his face.

"Oh, god," Bahorel said, getting out one last chuckle as he wiped his eyes.

"I'm sorry. I missed the joke," Grantaire said.

"Enjolras thought I'd be a good replacement for him. As a corporate lawyer."

"So you didn't go to law school?"

"He did," Enjolras said through gritted teeth. "He passed the bar and everything."

"Yeah, and then I got the fuck out of there and travelled the world to get it out of my system. I mean, me, a lawyer?"

"You were in the top ten percent of our class."

That sobered Bahorel up. He pointed a very serious finger at Enjolras. "You shut your damn mouth. Don't tell anyone that. I have a reputation."

"So what are you going to do if not law?"

"Thought I'd get a job at a gym," Bahorel said, shrugging. "Maybe pick up some personal training clients."

"I've been looking for someone to train me!" Grantaire said excitedly. "What's your area of expertise?"

They didn't bring up law school or Enjolras's job again.

"Oh, come on," Grantaire said to Enjolras, who was sitting in pointed silence in the car back to the office. "You had to know it you were grasping at straws. Two hours with Bahorel and I knew he would rather jump into the Hudson than ever consider taking your job."

"And you were so eager to offer him another job."

"Are you honestly mad I offered your friend a job?"

Enjolras huffed, deflating a little. His hair was still messed up from when Bahorel ruffled it as he gave a goodbye hug. "No. Of course not. I just wish you were as eager to find my replacement as you were to find a personal trainer."

Grantaire looked out the window so he could avoid Enjolras's stare. Enjolras was right, of course. It wasn't fair of him to keep Enjolras on and make no move to replace him. It was taking advantage of Enjolras's kindness. But Grantaire couldn't bear the thought of hiring someone else. No one else could do Enjolras's job as well as he did.

Really, it was Enjolras being selfish. Here Grantaire was, giving Enjolras a stable, well-paying job. A stable, well-paying job where Enjolras could help all the causes he cared so much about. And it was the kind of job that provided the kind of mental challenges Enjolras clearly craved. And all Grantaire asked in return was that...Enjolras cater to his every whim. Put up with his bullshit. Put up with corporate bullshit.

Fuck.

"Let's start looking at candidates next week," Grantaire said softly.

Enjolras perked up. "Really?"

"Yeah. I don't think I have any new, urgent projects for you, so spend the rest of the week looking for people, and we'll go over them Monday. First thing. Get HR to help you look for people if you need to."

"I won't. I'll find you someone good. Someone better than me."

Grantaire nodded stiffly. He doubted Enjolras would be able to find someone better than himself. He doubted such a person existed.

He started when Enjolras leaned forward and gently took his hands.

“I know I was mad when I quit, but I’ve calmed down. I just really do think it’ll be for the best. For both of us. But I am grateful for everything you’ve done for me, and I'm not going to abandon you until I am confident you are taken care of. Okay?"

"Okay."

Enjolras smiled. "And Grantaire?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

He gave Grantaire's hands one last squeeze, before settling back in his seat.

Grantaire swallowed. He would be taken care of. He had Enjolras's word, which actually meant something. So why did he still feel a sense of dread?

He was right in feeling some trepidation, because the next Monday, Enjolras shepherded a gangly youth into his office. The kid probably would be considered good-looking if he weren’t so painfully awkward.

"Grantaire, this is Marius Pontmercy,” Enjolras said. He had a determined look about him.

"Hey," Grantaire nodded.

Marius Pontmercy waved.

"Are you an intern?"

"He's my replacement."

"Your what?"

"My replacement."

"Your what?"

"Replacement."

"What?"

"His replacement," Marius Pontmercy supplied timidly.

Grantaire looked at Marius Pontmercy, then back at Enjolras, then back again at the kid. "What?"

Enjolras rolled his eyes. "Remind me to give you Grantaire's doctor's information later, Marius, since he has apparently gone deaf."

"Okay."

"I’m sorry," Grantaire said, trying to wrap his brain around this all. "But how is this kid your replacement?"

"He's not a kid. He graduated law school and passed the bar with flying colors. Not to mention, he speaks Spanish, French, Arabic, and Chinese."

"I'm learning Chinese," Marius quickly corrected him.

"Which, considering how quickly you pick up languages, you will probably be speaking conversationally by the end of the year," Enjolras said, turning to face Grantaire defiantly.

Grantaire stared at Marius Pontmercy, trying to reconcile his apparent genius with his awkward, uncomfortable air.

"O..kay?"

This was not good enough for Enjolras, judging by the way surged forward, grabbed Grantaire by the elbow, and dragged him into the hallway.

"He's the one."

"How can you be sure?"

"He's brilliant, obviously. And his language skills will be a huge asset as Corinth Industries looks to work on global expansion. And Courfeyrac vouched for him."

"What was the last one?"

"My best friend. Courfeyrac. He vouches for Marius. He said he's smart, hard working, and a good person."

Clearly that last quality was the one that mattered most to Enjolras. And he seemed to trust Courfeyrac's word, and if Enjolras trusted him, then Grantaire did too. And Grantaire knew Enjolras wouldn't march into his office and declare Marius Pontmercy "the one" unless he really meant it.

So Marius Pontmercy was probably his best shot at having an assistant who was anywhere near Enjolras's level. And yet...Grantaire couldn't quite bring himself to say yes.

Enjolras seemed to sense his hesitation and pounced. “Look, you _owe_ Courfeyrac. You and I ruined his wedding. Marius is his other best friend, and it would mean a lot to Courf if he were gainfully employed.”

“I don’t _owe_ Courfeyrac,” Grantaire said. “I sent him flowers.”

“No. You never sent the flowers. To either groom. Or me, for that matter.”

Damnit. “Okay, fine. You try training him, and we’ll see how he gets on.”

Marius got on distressingly well. He was still painfully shy, but beneath that timid and shrinking exterior was a brilliant mind, Grantaire was sad to say. They were seated in Grantaire’s office, with Marius going over Grantaire’s schedule while Enjolras was on a conference call. Grantaire hadn’t quite managed to strike up a rapport with Marius, but maybe with time Marius would be able to make eye contact with Grantaire for more than two seconds. As it was, Marius was telling Grantaire about what the rest of his month looked like, and was determinedly staring at the planner in front of him.

"Hello, R."

Grantaire jumped when he looked up and saw Jean Prouvaire standing in front of his desk.

"How did you get in here?"

"The window."

Grantaire looked at the window in question. "We're on the thirty seventh floor."

"I came through the door, Grantaire," Jehan said, rolling his eyes.

"Right." Grantaire wasn't convinced Jehan hadn't come through the window. He liked Jehan, but there was something unsettling about him. Sometimes he thought Jehan was some mystical creature who had come and live among the humans. He told Jehan so one time when they were both drunk (and a little high), and Jehan had just squinted at him for a full minute, then whispered, “shhhhh”. Grantaire never brought it up again.

"Aren't you going to ask me why I'm here?"

"Well it certainly wasn't to knock."

Jehan rolled his eyes. "You know you love me."

"I do love you. But still. You want to come in my office, you knock. No exceptions. Even my father knocks before he comes in here. Otherwise you scare me, and I have a very delicate constitution."

Really, it was because when Grantaire had first started, people barged into his office constantly. He was the Boss's Son, and no one took him seriously. The only way he could change that perception was to start establishing boundaries, at least when he was at work. He even asked Joly and Bossuet to knock when they visited, which they did.

Jehan snorted. "Well, Mr. Delicate Constitution, you still haven't asked me why I'm here."

"It's not personal. I just like boundaries when I'm in the office."

"I get it," Jehan smiled. "So do you care why I'm here, or are you just going to continue to explain the rules to me?"

"Why are you here?"

"He's here to talk about the gala you’re hosting next week," Marius said, pointing to the spot on the calendar.

"Right."

The gala. Corinth Industries had an annual gala every year to raise money for "the community". Usually, it was to donate to a well off library or park that didn't really need the money. This year, Grantaire was in charge of selecting the charity and he was determined not to repeat history. He was going to make Enjolras proud, especially since this was the last major project they would work on together.

Jehan pulled up his presentation on his laptop and Marius helped him set it up so they could project it onto the wall. Grantaire started reviewing his gala notes when the door burst open yet again, and this time, Enjolras came striding in.

"Sorry I'm late," he said, heading straight for Grantaire's desk. He rummaged around the top, then through some of the drawers. "Grantaire, why don't you have any pens?"

"Take this one," Grantaire held out the one he was using.

"You need that."

"I'll steal your notes later."

Enjolras shook his head, but he was smiling, so Grantaire was satisfied. Enjolras finally found a pen, and Grantaire scooted over so Enjolras could sit next to him on the couch. He felt Marius staring at them, with a strange expression on his face, like he was piecing something together.

"What?" Grantaire said, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

"Nothing. We're ready," Marius said, turning off the lights so Jehan could start his presentation.

It went smoothly. Jehan and Enjolras worked surprisingly well together. When he first introduced them, Grantaire had assumed they wouldn't get along. Enjolras had been wearing a suit, and Jehan had been wearing a bright orange pants/shaggy brown sweater combination that still occasionally haunted Grantaire's dreams. But for all of Jehan's whimsy, he was an excellent party-planner, and for all of Enjolras's seriousness, he was flexible when it suited the task at hand.

In fact, it went so smoothly that they finished over an hour early.

“I think that about wraps up all the major questions I had for you,” Jehan said, packing his things. “At this point, there aren’t many decisions left to make. But I’ll keep Enjolras in the loop, and he can let you know if there are any last-minute problems.”

“You’d better convey any problems to Marius,” Enjolras said. “I’m leaving the company soon.”

Jehan gasped dramatically, and clutched Enjolras’s arm. “You’re coming to the gala, right?”

Enjolras looked uncertainly at Grantaire. “I don’t know.”

“You _have_ to,” Jehan declared emphatically. “We spent the last six months planning this thing, Enjolras. Don’t you dare not show up to the event. It’s for an actual good cause this year!”

“Okay. I’ll see you there,” Enjolras said, shrugging helplessly. Jehan was very hard to say no to.

“You’d better,” Jehan muttered darkly.

He left after giving them all (including a bewildered Marius) a huge hug.

Grantaire glanced at his watch. “I think we can go ahead and call that a day. There’s nothing urgent we need to handle, and there’s no sense in starting anything new this late in the day.”

Marius thanked him profusely for letting them off early, and put his coat on inside out as he excitedly told them he was going to surprise his fiancée and pick her up from work.

“What about you?” Grantaire asked.

“I’m going to surprise some people too,” Enjolras said with a mysterious smile.

“Surprise who?”

“I’m going to the community center, if you must know.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I go there sometimes when I have a few extra hours, like I have now. So…”

“Take me with you.”

Enjolras blinked at Grantaire almost comically. “What?”

“I’ve heard you talk about how important this place is for the community. So why don’t you show me?”

“Okay,” Enjolras said, already looking like he was regretting it.

He kept shooting Grantaire furtive looks the entire way over that Grantaire found more amusing than insulting.

When they reached the front door, Enjolras stopped abruptly. "Are you sure about this?"

"I am. Clearly you're not."

"Because I don't think you've thought through how potentially awkward this is."

"Why would it be awkward? Just because my dad wants to bulldoze this place to the ground, you think it might be awkward for you to show me around?"

Enjolras groaned. "Just...be on your best behavior, okay?"

"Are you afraid I'll embarrass you?" Grantaire said, feeling a tad bit offended.

There was a pause that was answer enough. Enjolras seemed to realize this was rather a dickish response, because he took Grantaire's hand.

"Look, I just...this place is important to me, okay? And you're..."

"Your boss."

"I was going to say important to me too," Enjolras said, the defiant tilt of his head marred only by the slight pinkness to his cheeks. "So, since this place is important to me, and you're important to me..."

"It's important that this goes well," Grantaire said with a chuckle. "I kind of figured this place was important to you. I mean, you've only been fighting for over two years to save it."

"Is that Enjolras?"

They both turned and looked at the woman who was striding towards them from down the hall. Her silver hair was pulled back in a tight bun, she wore perfectly tailored pants, an elegant blouse, and a pair of polished pumps. Despite her impeccable appearance, there was something soft and approachable to her.

"Hello, Ms. Lamarque," Enjolras said.

" _Ms._ Lamarque? That's very formal of you," she said, amused, as she pulled Enjolras into a tight hug. When she withdrew, she appraised him. "You're too skinny. You haven't been eating enough."

"I eat just fine."

"I know you, Enjolras, no you haven't. Come to my office. I have some brownies for you and your friend."

Grantaire waved, feeling like he was intruding. Which, he supposed, he was. "I'm Grantaire."

"I know who you are." Lamarque fixed Grantaire with a piercing look. He was suddenly reminded of Enjolras's unsettling ability to go from charming to terrifying at the drop of a hat. He was starting to guess where Enjolras had learned that trick from. Maybe she decided to also be on her best behavior, because she smiled. "It's nice to finally meet you, Grantaire. Now: brownies."

"I'd rather say hi to the kids," Enjolras said.

"Of course you would," Lamarque said, sounding fond. "It's craft time."

They went out into a large classroom, where about thirty kids were crowded around little tables, drawing happily with crayons. One little girl spotted the newcomers.

"Mr. Enjolras!" she shrieked, tossing her drawing aside, and wrapping herself around Enjolras's leg. It was pandemonium: a bunch of 5-7 year olds were flinging themselves at Enjolras. They soon dragged him to a tiny chair, where they crowded around him, chattering eagerly, and showing him their artwork so far.

It was an image Grantaire would treasure: Enjolras in a chair that was about three sizes too small for him, nodding seriously and examining each piece of art the kids showed him.

"Could have given me warning," the instructor said, giving up on recapturing any semblance of order. Instead he wandered over to where Lamarque and Grantaire stood.

"Enjolras finished work early and wanted to say hi."

"Of course he did. He didn't want to catch up on sleep or anything like that," the man said, grinning even as he rolled his eyes.

"Oh, I'll talk to him about that when I corner him later," Lamarque said. "Grantaire, this is Feuilly, the center's art instructor."

They shook hands.

"So I take it Enjolras comes here a lot?" Grantaire was surprised. He didn't know when Enjolras could possibly have the time.

"He usually comes Sunday mornings to volunteer with the kids. And special occasions. I tell myself it makes him more mysterious, which is why he's the kid's favorite," Feuilly said, watching as one of the younger kids tugged on Enjolras's hair in awe.

Grantaire glanced around the room. It was clearly old, but well-cared for. The back wall was completely covered in artwork by the kids, and another wall was filled with shelves of trophies and photographs of kids. There was one giant soccer trophy, with the photo of the team next to it. Grantaire looked at all the faces in the picture- the kids had to be no more than 10. Then he did a double take.

"Yes, that's Enjolras," Lamarque said. Grantaire tried not to flinch at the sound of her voice.

"Did you teach Enjolras how to sneak up on people? Because if so, when he finally gives me a heart attack one of these days, I'm suing you."

Lamarque laughed. "He's always been light on his feet."

"So he's been coming here for a while?"

"His parents worked a lot when he was growing up. He was home-schooled, but he wanted to spend time with kids his own age. One day he ran away, then found us. And he kept coming back. When he was older, his parents sent him to boarding school, but he still came back on breaks, and started volunteering. All through high school, college, law school, and even now."

"I had no idea," Grantaire said. He had assumed the fight for the community center was personal, in the way that Enjolras made every one of his causes personal. He didn't realize there was a history there.

It was amazing, how self-absorbed Grantaire had been. He had known Enjolras for two years, and had never thought to ask about the community center Enjolras was so desperate to save. He should have guessed it was deeply personal. He should have asked. He had sort of assumed he would have forever to get to know Enjolras, to discover tidbits about his life. He never thought he’d have to cram in all this information before Enjolras was out of his life for good.

They didn't leave the community center for another three hours. The kids had begged Enjolras to stay and watch their play rehearsals, and Grantaire had been roped into helping them paint the set.

When they left (plied with brownies and fruit from Lamarque), they strolled aimlessly, neither in a particular hurry to get home. It was perfect outside. The day had been a little hot, but now in the gathering evening, the air was just the right temperature to walk around in, and the way Manhattan was lit up across the river was mesmerizing.

Enjolras let out a sharp laugh, but covered his mouth like he felt bad about it.

"What?" Grantaire asked.

"You got some paint on your jacket," Enjolras said apologetically.

"Really?"

Enjolras was already reaching for his jacket, trying to tug it off. "Yeah, I'll take it to the dry cleaners first thing in the morning."

"Don't worry about it," Grantaire said, glancing down at his body, and seeing that there were indeed several streaks of blue and green paint covering his jacket.

"No, come on. It's my fault, and my job," Enjolras said, trying again.

"No, really-" Grantaire took a step back. He must have caught Enjolras off guard, because Enjolras stumbled forward, and suddenly their faces were inches away from each other. Enjolras blinked up at Grantaire. His hair was shining like a halo in the streetlights.

"Sorry," he mumbled, straightening himself up again.

"No, it's fine."

The air shifted, and suddenly a cool breeze from the river passed through, making both of them shiver.

"I should go," Enjolras said quietly. "It's going to be a busy day tomorrow."

"When isn't it?"

"Do you want me to get you a car?" Enjolras asked.

"No, I think I'll wander for a little bit longer," Grantaire paused. "Goodnight, Enjolras."

"Goodnight, Grantaire."

********

There was something different the next morning when Grantaire went into the office. The smile Enjolras gave him was gentler than usual.

"You ready to go over your schedule?"

Grantaire nodded. It was a normal day. Completely normal, as Grantaire's schedule confirmed. So why did it feel different?

"Oh, and your father called. He wants to have a meeting with you at the end of the day whenever you finish up."

Okay, so that was new. "With me?"

"Who else?"

The rest of the day passed by in a pleasant blur. Grantaire and Enjolras got a lot of work done. He had a successful break, working out with Bahorel. Joly and Bossuet stopped by for lunch, and Enjolras tagged along. Joly and Bossuet had really taken a shine to Enjolras. They seemed to think that he was a good influence on Grantaire. And while he thought their concern was misplaced, it made Grantaire happy that his two best friends got along so well with his...assistant? His soon to be ex-legal counsel? His Enjolras.

The pleasantness of the day couldn’t last. Not when Grantaire still had a meeting with his father he had to get through.

"It's over, Francis," his father said skipping over any pleasantries.

"What do you mean?"

"That damned community center. Louis Thénardier has just made me an incredibly lucrative offer on the lot and we will complete the deal at the end of the month."

"Okay," Grantaire said, his mind racing. That gave him another two weeks to figure something out.

"Stop."

"I'm not doing anything."

"You're thinking," his father said, abruptly slamming his briefcase shut. "I'm telling you, the deal is all but done. Thénardier just needs until the end of the month to get his team to draw up some paperwork."

"Look, Father, I know I'm not an unbiased party, but do we really want to get into business with someone like Thénardier?"

"What do you know about business?" Richard snorted.

He might as well have slapped Grantaire. He had been trying really hard in the past two years to learn the business. And he had learned a lot! And even if he hadn't, he didn't need an advanced business degree to know that working with someone with as shady a reputation as Thénardier was a bad idea.

"Look, son, I appreciate your initiative," Richard said in a tone that said he did not appreciate it, not even a little bit. "But I wouldn't have wanted you to get more involved if I knew what a pain in the ass you were going to be. This deal is going through, and I don't want to hear any more about it, okay?"

Grantaire nodded, not sure if he was angrier at his father, or at himself. "Yes, sir."

“Good. Now you stop worrying about the community center and focus on other things. You all set for tomorrow?”

Grantaire nodded again. He was going to survey a plot of land just outside of Boston. He had been excited when Richard first asked him to go. It was potentially a big deal, and Grantaire had been thrilled for the opportunity to prove himself. Now it seemed completely trivial, because tomorrow, Grantaire was going to have to break the news to Enjolras about the center.

********

"You were out late last night," Enjolras said when Grantaire slid into their car. "Did the meeting with your father go well?"

He was looking at Grantaire with that expression- that stupid, earnest expression that Grantaire wanted him to always have. The look that was full of hope and optimism. Too often, Grantaire was the one to dim the light in Enjolras's eyes. He couldn't bring himself to do it. Not today. Not when this was the one of the last weeks they would be together. He would somehow figure it out and fix it, and then Enjolras never need know how close his dad was to selling the community center to Thénardier. No need to upset Enjolras. They would have this one last business trip together, it would be nice, then Grantaire would figure this out. Marius might be able to help. A fresh pair of eyes might do the case some good.

So Grantaire didn’t mention it. Not on the way over to the airport. Not during the flight. Not during the building examination. And certainly not after it. He didn’t want to ruin a perfectly good flight.

It turned out that Enjolras was the one who was going to ruin the flight.

“I’ll see you back in New York,” Enjolras said.

“What do you mean?” Grantaire frowned.

“I’m not taking the plane. I’ve got other arrangements.”

That was…not what Grantaire had been expecting. Their post-conference briefings were something he had come to cherish. It was a tradition. Maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised that Enjolras was bucking a tradition, but still. It was their thing. They discussed what had just happened. Mostly Enjolras told Grantaire what he did wrong and how he should fix it next time. Grantaire laughed and made jokes. Sometimes Enjolras got mad, but other times, his professional armor would crack and he would laugh too. And now on this, their last trip (Grantaire didn’t want to think about that), Enjolras had _other_ arrangements?

“What’s wrong with the plane?”

“Nothing’s wrong with the plane.”

“Is it because you think flying business class is extravagant? Because I used to fly a private jet before you came along, you know.”

Enjolras shuddered. “Yes, I am aware.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“I’m driving back to New York. I got a refund for my plane ticket already, but we should donate that to some environmental cause to make up for all the years you spent flying _private jet_.”

“You’re driving?”

Enjolras sighed like Grantaire was being difficult on purpose. “If you must know, I wanted to stop in Connecticut to do some antiquing.”

There were so many things happening this afternoon that Grantaire had not anticipated. “I’m sorry. You, Enjolras, are going antiquing?”

“As I just said.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to get something nice for Combeferre and Courfeyrac. I missed half their wedding, after all. They said they forgave me, but I still want to do something nice for them. I thought I might find something for them.”

“By antiquing?”

“Stop saying antiquing,” Enjolras snapped. “But…yes. Combeferre likes history and old things, and Courfeyrac has a certain affection for unusual items as conversation starters.”

“I’m coming with you.” A roadtrip seemed like the perfect opportunity for Grantaire to gently break the news to Enjolras about the community center.

Enjolras looked incredulous. “What?”

“Cancel my flight, we’ll donate the cost of both tickets. Come on.”

“Are you coming just so you can make fun of me?”

“Maybe. Or maybe it’s because I too am fond of old, weird things.”

He batted his eyes hopefully at Enjolras, who looked like he was having a deep internal struggle. “You said you’ll donate the cost of both tickets?”

Grantaire grinned.

********

“What do you mean, you’re not going to get this? It’s perfect.” Grantaire said, thrusting a particularly hideous troll doll in Enjolras’s face again.

“It looks like it’s haunted.”

“Okay, but a book? Enjolras? Really? You couldn’t get books in New York City? It’s not like there aren’t a million used bookstores.”

Enjolras sighed. “Well I’m not getting them the _that_ ,” he said accusingly, pointing to the box in Grantaire’s hand.

“You’re vetoing all the fun things. From what you and Marius told me about Courfeyrac, I’m sure he would _love_ the antique dick in a box.”

The corner of Enjolras’s mouth twitched, and Grantaire felt very smug.

“I’m suddenly very glad you give me a bonus for Christmas and not personalized gifts.”

After checking out four stores, Enjolras eventually settled on buying a large, beautifully decorated map for the present. It was old, and spotted with fictional countries and continents, and Enjolras was certain it would satisfy both the grooms.

“And I’ll write a note with it, saying I hope their marriage is a beautiful journey that takes them extraordinary places,” Enjolras told Grantaire excitedly as they hit the road again.

“You’re so cheesy.”

“They’re my best friends!” Enjolras said, as if that explained it.

Grantaire chuckled. He was finding he really liked this soft, caring side of Enjolras. He wished he had seen it more. He was starting to wonder if maybe now it might be a good time to tell Enjolras about the community center, since they had a few hours of driving to get to New York. The shopping trip had been a success, they had just eaten, and they were almost home. This was the best mood he was going to catch Enjolras in. Enjolras would be pissed, then be able to yell at Grantaire for the rest of the ride and get whatever he need off his chest. Then when they got back to the city, they could part ways, and Enjolras would have the rest of the weekend to calm down. It seemed as good a time as any, when Enjolras suddenly spoke.

"It looks like it's starting to come down," he said balefully.

"I didn't think a little thing like rain would get you down," Grantaire laughed.

"We're on a dirty road in the middle of nowhere. It's probably at risk for flash floods. We'll have to spend the night here."

"It won't be that bad," Grantaire said. "We'll find a motel somewhere and leave in the morning."

Enjolras nodded. "I guess it's not the worst thing in the world. I was just hoping to get back to the city so I could work on a few things."

Of course he was.

"Then maybe this rain is a good thing, because you need a break."

"I do not. I'm about to leave Corinth Industries. The last thing I need is a break. I need to be wrapping up loose ends."

"You've worked your ass off for the last two years so that everything is in order. You once told me your work was done in such a way, that if you were to suddenly drop dead, someone could easily come in and continue it."

"That was an exaggeration."

"I doubt it. And I'm sure as soon as you do get back to civilization, you'll get right back to it, and take care of the very few loose ends you have left. For now, relax. There's no rush."

For a dreadful moment, Grantaire was afraid Enjolras was going to change his mind, and keep driving through the storm. But instead he nodded.

"Can you look up a place to stay?"

"On it."

It took Grantaire less than a minute to find a B&B that was only a couple miles away. When they pulled into the parking lot, they made a dash for the front lobby. It didn’t do them much good. As soon as they stepped inside, Enjolras took one look at Grantaire, and burst into laughter.

"What?"

"You look like you fell in a swimming pool."

"Yeah, well, so do you," Grantaire said. He reached forward, and tugged on one of Enjolras's wet curls, which bounced back in place. "Unbelievable."

How did Enjolras still have gently tousled hair, even while drenched? Grantaire didn't even want to imagine what his own hair looked like. He probably vaguely resembled a wet dog.

"Can I help you?" a little old lady asked, appearing behind the counter.

"Do you have any vacancies?" Enjolras asked.

"I have just the room for you," she said. "It has a lovely view of the orchard, and a king size bed."

"Oh, could we actually have two rooms?" Enjolras asked quickly. "Or at least a room with twin beds?"

"I'm sorry, dear," the lady replied. "We're doing some renovations, so we have less rooms than usual. And the only other empty room is leaky because of all the rain."

Enjolras cast a side-long look at Grantaire. "Well, I'm okay with it, if you are?"

"Beats driving through the rain," Grantaire shrugged. He stepped forward to collect the key, and more importantly, pay for the room. It made him feel slightly less guilty about the community center if he could at least do this one small thing.

"Oh, no, I'll get it," Enjolras protested. "I'm the one who wanted to go antiquing in the first place."

"Stop!" Grantaire commanded.

Enjolras looked so bewildered by the sudden order that he actually listened.

"I already dripped on the floor," Grantaire continued, pointing to the trail of water drops. "You don't want to add to the mess, do you?"

"He has a point, dear," the innkeeper said.

“In that case, thank you,” Enjolras said, smiling at him.

“Any time.”

As soon as they reached the room, Grantaire kicked off his shoes and flopped down on the bed. Enjolras hovered in the doorway.

“What’s wrong?”

“This was only supposed to be a day trip, so neither of us brought any luggage,” Enjolras said, gesturing to his suit.

“Oh.” Grantaire wished they had thought to buy sleeping clothes while they were still outside. “Well, I don’t mind if you just wear your underwear, if you don’t mind me doing the same.”

Enjolras nodded gamely, and started to loosen his tie. Grantaire couldn’t help but stare as Enjolras suddenly became more human, stripping away his armor as he removed his suit and tie.

“Actually, if you don’t mind, I’m going to hop in the shower. Unless you wanted to?” Enjolras said.

“Nah, I’m a morning showerer,” Grantaire said.

Enjolras stepped into the bathroom, and closed the door. Grantaire flipped on the TV. Unsurprisingly, there wasn’t a lot on at 10:30 at night. He turned the TV off, and that’s when he heard Enjolras singing. Loudly, and actually quite well. It sounded like he was singing “My Shot” from _Hamilton_ . Grantaire chuckled. Of course Enjolras liked _Hamilton_ , and of course he was a good singer. It seemed like there nothing he couldn’t do. Except, rap, apparently, as Grantaire found out when Enjolras tried to sing some of Lafayette’s bits. Yet somehow, Enjolras’s bad rapping was painfully endearing.

It was only when Grantaire heard the water shutting off that he realized listening to his employee sing in the shower was crossing a line of some sort. He hadn’t done it on purpose, but it was an invasion of privacy all the same, so he hastily pulled out his phone and started fiddling with it, so he could look like he had been doing something other than eavesdrop.

Despite his best efforts, something about his face must have clued Enjolras in when he stepped out of the bathroom, wearing a huge, fluffy robe.

“Did you hear that?”

“Did I hear what?”

“Nothing,” Enjolras said. Grantaire grinned widely, and Enjolras turned red. “You _did_ hear that!”

“No I didn’t.”

“What didn’t you hear?” Enjolras narrowed his eyes.

“An adorable rendition of a hit Broadway show?”

“Oh my god.”

“I said it was adorable!”

“I don’t have an adorable bone in my body,” Enjolras said savagely.

“Okay.”

“I don’t!”

“I said okay!”

Enjolras squinted suspiciously as Grantaire repressed his grin. With a sigh, Enjolras slipped into bed, only shrugging off his robe when he was securely under the covers.

“You’re not naked under there, are you?” Grantaire said, knowing very well he wasn’t.

It was worth it for the way Enjolras sputtered. “No, of course not. Are you?”

“Sorry to disappoint you, but I am wearing boxers.”

“You have a terrible sense of humor, you know.”

“Yeah, I know. But you like it.”

“Yeah, I do.” Enjolras was so quiet, that Grantaire thought he must have drifted off to sleep. But then- “Hey Grantaire?”

“Yeah?”

The sheets rustled as Enjolras shifted. There was a long pause, then. “Nothing. Good night.”

“Good night, Enjolras.”

********

Grantaire awoke with a start. It had been a while since he had woken up in an unfamiliar room with no recollection of how he got there. He looked down and saw a head full of honeyed curls and panicked, until he remembered. Right. He was staying in a bed and breakfast. With Enjolras. He was sharing a bed with Enjolras. Totally normal.

As if the situation weren't weird enough, it seemed that Grantaire had, in his sleep, rolled over to Enjolras's side of the bed, so now he was pressed right against Enjolras, with his arm draped across Enjolras's back. Awkward.

Very slowly, and very, very carefully, he started to roll off his stomach, away from Enjolras. Apparently he wasn't careful enough, because Enjolras let out an annoyed huff, and shifted ever so slightly. Grantaire held his breath. Before, Enjolras had his face buried in his pillow, but now, he was turned towards Grantaire, still blissfully asleep.

Grantaire had never seen him so relaxed before. In sleep, Enjolras looked soft and... almost human. Not entirely though, because sunbeams filtered through the window and enveloped Enjolras in a gentle morning glow.

Grantaire had always known Enjolras was beautiful —  it was the first thing he noticed about him. He could remember that day clearly. He had been blown away by just how beautiful Enjolras was, and then he made the mistake of telling Enjolras he was attractive. That had earned him quite the verbal lashing, and ever since then, it was Enjolras's mind that stood out to Grantaire.

There were lots of beautiful people in the world (though, perhaps few as gorgeous as Enjolras, Grantaire would admit). But it was his mind, his spirit that made Grantaire want to hire him, and his personality that Grantaire paid attention to. So much so, that Enjolras's physical attractiveness was just a fact Grantaire filed away, but seldom noted. But now, Enjolras's beauty hit him full force, and made him ache. That was new. And unexpected. Grantaire really couldn't explain why he suddenly wanted to snuggle back up next to Enjolras, and kiss him awake. Maybe it had been too long since he had been with someone. Yes, that's what it must be.

Still feeling slightly unsettled, Grantaire crept out of the bed, and got dressed as quietly as he could. Luckily, he didn't wake up Enjolras. They probably should get going, but Grantaire was loathe to wake up Enjolras. The poor guy never seemed to get enough sleep. Grantaire would let him sleep a little longer.

Needing something to do with himself, Grantaire went downstairs to check and see if breakfast would be ready soon. (It would be). He also made two cups of coffee, which he carried back up to the room. He carefully opened the door, but saw this was unnecessary: Enjolras was awake.

"Morning!" Grantaire said, feeling a pleasant swooping sensation at the sight of Enjolras sitting up and watching the news in bed. It was nice to see a different side of Enjolras, after several years of knowing him. Although, Grantaire wasn't the least bit surprised that the first thing Enjolras did in the morning was check the news.

He stepped in the room, and shut the door. That was when he noticed Enjolras's clenched jaw and realized that he was furious.

"Did you know about this?" Enjolras asked, his voice low, dangerous.

"Did I know about what?" Grantaire asked.

He moved so he could see the TV, and his stomach dropped. His father was on the news, enthusiastically detailing how he was starting a new partnership with Louis Thénardier.

“And we will begin with demolishing the Brooklyn Community Center at the end of the month. It’s been an eyesore for the past decade, and we will mark our new partnership by rebuilding the community.”

 _Click._ Grantaire turned off the TV, not wanting to hear anything else his father had to say.

"Did. You. Know." Enjolras repeated, finally looking away from the TV.

"I didn't know they were publically announcing it." Grantaire said.

Enjolras stood up furiously. "So you knew, but you were hoping you could hide it from me?"

"What? No!" Not exactly, anyway.

"Is this why you were so eager for us to spend the night? So I wouldn't be anywhere near the city to stop this?"

"Jesus Christ, of course not! There were flash flood warnings. Are you seriously blaming me for the rain?"

"I think you saw an opportunity to stall me and took it."

"That's fucking ridiculous!" Grantaire snapped, feeling stung. "The reason I didn't tell you, was because until the deal went public, there was still a possibility I could stop it. I didn't know they were going to close it so fast. I thought I had more time."

"And you never thought to say anything?"

"I just said I thought I had more time! And you wanted me to take care of it, remember?"

“You call this taking care of it?”

“I was doing my best!”

“You were being a coward,” Enjolras seized his shirt, and started to haphazardly button it up. “You should have told me.”

He was right. Grantaire had been a coward. “I’m sorry. Enjolras, please. I’m really, really sorry. I just...I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Oh, you’ve done more than that,” Enjolras said, pulling on his pants, then shoving on his shoes. “I can’t believe you would do this. After all this time. After everything we’ve been through...I can’t believe you’re letting things end this way. And that you didn’t have the guts or decency to let me know yourself.”

He was finally still enough that Grantaire could get a good look at him. He was angry, yes, but he also looked hurt.

“I’m sorry,” Grantaire said,a because what else could he say?

“Apology not accepted,” Enjolras said, pushing past him, and slamming the door.

********

There was a knock on Grantaire's apartment door. Two days had gone by since he and Enjolras last spoke. Grantaire even called out of work, sick, not able to face Enjolras yet. But now it was time for the gala, and seeing Enjolras again was inevitable.

In fact, that might be Enjolras at the door, Grantaire realized. Enjolras always brought Grantaire’s suit over before big events. He raced over and yanked the door open.

"Look, Enjolras, I'm really sorry about-" he cut himself off mid-sentence. It wasn't Enjolras. It was Marius, who winced apologetically.

"Enjolras thought I should deliver your suit, so I could figure out where the dry cleaners is and stuff for the future."

Grantaire nodded. "Yeah. Great. Thanks."

Marius hung the tux up on the coatrack. "Your car will be here in one hour to take you to the gala. Do you...should I be doing anything else?"

Usually before big events, Enjolras would sit at the breakfast bar, sipping a cup of coffee, while directing Grantaire. He would tell Grantaire how much time they had, tell him which tie to wear, if his hair looked okay. Then he'd usually have to tie Grantaire's tie for him.

"Grantaire?" Marius hovered awkwardly in the threshold.

"No. I'm good. See you at the thing."

********

Special events were one of the few parts of Grantaire's jobs that he enjoyed. They were parties, after all. And Jehan was a brilliant party planner. Usually Grantaire would fill up on good food, mingle as much as he had to, then sit in a corner with some of his friends (or Enjolras...usually Enjolras) and people-watch.

He wasn't looking forward to tonight at all.

When he arrived, the gala was already in full swing. It was a purposeful tactic on his part. More people meant more of a chance he could avoid Enjolras. He found Joly and Bossuet, who he had invited a month ago, thinking it would be a good opportunity for them to catch up, and to show them what a serious, professional person he was. Now he was going to use them as a human shield, for when Enjolras stormed over to scream at him.

"Are you okay?" Joly asked.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You have a look about you," Bossuet said.

"This is just my normal face."

"Are we talking about how weird Grantaire looks?" Jehan asked, coming over, kissing both of Grantaire's cheeks.

"I'm fine. I look fine. I feel fine. I'm fine."

"Okay. Then let's talk about how fabulous my party is," Jehan said. He managed to look pretty normal, for once. He was wearing all black, with purple eyeliner and silver nail polish.

"It looks great," Bossuet told Jehan sincerely. Jehan beamed in response.

"Yeah, everything looks great. Ooh, so does Enjolras. There he is." Joly waved. "Enjolras!"

Grantaire turned and saw Enjolras standing, talking to Marius and some girl a few feet away. Joly was right. He looked great. He was wearing a three piece suit that was tailored perfectly and was drawing more than a few admiring looks. At the sound of Joly calling his name, Enjolras looked over and raised his glass in their direction, but made no move to come over. Grantaire felt his stomach sink. Enjolras didn't even want to yell at him. If he was past the point of scolding Grantaire, then that meant he had nothing left to say to him. That thought was unbearable.

A little while later, Grantaire was introduced to the girl who had been talking to Enjolras and Marius earlier. She was Cosette, Marius's beloved fiancée. She was sweet. Sweet and smart. She was an investigative reporter, and in the middle of a story about some of her latest escapades. But Grantaire was barely listening to a word she was saying, because he was too busy staring across the room to where Enjolras was now talking to Joly and Bossuet. He threw his head back and was laughing at something Bossuet was saying. Grantaire would give up his entire fortune to be part of that conversation.

As the evening went on, Grantaire realized that the more Enjolras didn’t want to talk to him, the more he absolutely had to speak to Enjolras. That bitter morning at the bed and breakfast could not be the end of their relationship. They had been through too much together for it to end so abruptly, so angrily.

He didn’t manage to corner Enjolras until towards the end.

“We need to talk,” he said lowly.

“We really, really don’t.”

“Look, I get that you’re pissed, but can you please stop acting like our relationship doesn’t matter?”

“I don’t even know what our relationship _is_ , because it was founded on lies!” Enjolras hissed. “I had one condition on being hired, _one_ , and that was to save the community center. And I did your bidding for two years. I worked my ass off. I sacrificed so much for you, and you couldn’t even do one thing.”

“Can you stop acting like I fucked up some tiny little task? You knew this was a huge deal and a long shot, so stop acting like I’m the worst human ever.”

“You gave me your word.”

“Well we can’t all be perfect like you!” Grantaire snapped. “So maybe you can remove the giant stick from your ass and cut me some slack. I’m only human.”

“Yes, I think after two years, I’m aware of your _humanity_ ,” Enjolras sneered. “Perhaps it’s my mistake for thinking you could be trusted. I should have known you better than that.”

“Oh, look at that! Mr. Perfect is capable of admitting he made a mistake.”

“Well let me shock you and admit to another mistake. I never should have come to work for you in the first place. These past two years have been a waste of time and if I could, I would take them back.”

“Um, guys?” Jehan took a timid step forward. Grantaire had no idea how long he had been standing there. “The band wants to know if they can pack it in.”

“Yeah. We’re done here.” Grantaire said, not looking away from Enjolras.

Enjolras spared him one last contemptuous look. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

********

It had been a week since the gala. Grantaire hadn’t seen Enjolras since. When he arrived to work the next morning, he saw Enjolras’ desk was completely cleared out. He tried to tell himself it didn’t matter. He was never very convincing.

Marius smiled sympathetically as he handed Grantaire his coffee.

"It'll get better."

"What will?"

"You miss Enjolras," Marius said simply.

"No I don't. Not after that fight we had. Good riddance, I say."

“You miss him, and it’s only natural. Given the way you feel about him.”

“The way I feel about him is that he’s a pain in the ass.”

“Well, you might feel that way, but you’re also in love with him,” Marius patted Grantaire kindly.

Grantaire jerked away. “What did you just say?”

"I said you're in love with Enjolras?" Marius said, suddenly looking nervous.

"What?"

"You. You're in love with Enjolras."

"Who?"

"You. Enjolras?"

"What?"

Marius Pontmercy furrowed his brow. "Oh dear. I never did get your doctor's information from Enjolras. We really should get your hearing checked."

Grantaire gaped at him.

“I’m going to go do lawyer stuff,” Marius muttered, slipping past Grantaire. Grantaire walked dazedly into his office and dropped onto his couch.

In love with Enjolras? _Enjolras_? That was preposterous. Completely ridiculous and… possibly true. Holy shit.

“Marius, can you come in here?” Grantaire shouted.

Marius shuffled him in. “There’s no chance that this is a legal matter, is there?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course it’s not. Now, what did you mean when you said I was in love with Enjolras?”

“I thought it was self-explanatory,” Marius said, tugging on his sleeve.

“Why do you think that?”

“Um, well, because, you know. You really didn’t want him to leave, but you let him go anyway. I think it’s because you didn’t want to make him sad. You yell at anyone who comes into your office without knocking, but Enjolras is allowed in whenever. You hijacked his antiquing expedition to spend more time with him.”

“I happen to love antiquing!”

“Be that as it may: you always look for excuses to spend more time with him. You’re always aware of him, and do little things to keep him happy. And the way you look at him is the way I think I look at Cosette.”

They were both silent as that sunk in.

“Holy shit,” Grantaire said. “Holy shit. Marius! Why didn’t you tell me I was in love with Enjolras before?”

“I thought you knew?”

“Now he’s gone, and I don’t know where to find him.”

“You might want to check the ABC offices.”

“The what?”

“Combeferre and Courfeyrac kind of turned Les Amis de l’ABC into a full-fledged non-profit. Enjolras went to work for them.”

“Marius, you’re amazing. Can you call a car?”

“Sure. I’ll tell them to take you right there.”

“No, wait.” Grantaire bit his lip. “There’s something else I have to do first.”

Marius looked scandalized. “Something more important than declaring your love?”

“Yeah. Trust me on this.”

********

Grantaire didn’t make it to Les Amis’ offices until early afternoon. As soon as he walked in, he was greeted by a grinning curly-haired man, who wrapped him in a bearhug.

“What’s happening?”

“I’m Courfeyrac. And you’re in love with my best friend!”

“Did everyone know this before me?”

“I didn’t have any idea until about an hour ago. Then Marius started texting me,” Courfeyrac said, setting Grantaire down. He waved at a tall, bespectacled man. "Combeferre! Look. Look who it is."

A tall, thin man came from out of one of the back offices.

"It's Grantaire!" Courfeyrac said delightedly.

Combeferre was decidedly more reserved as he coolly appraised Grantaire. "Nice tie. Did you choose it out yourself?" he finally asked.

“Er, yes?”

“Oh, well, I’m glad you’re now able to choose your own clothing. It’s a shame you were unable to pick out what kind of tie to wear when you called Enjolras in the middle of our wedding, but at least you’ve made progress.”

"Is Enjolras here?" Grantaire asked, a little desperately. Combeferre had the aura of a man who knew how to get away with murder.

"What are you doing here?"

Grantaire turned around, and saw Enjolras frowning at him.

"Hi."

"No, seriously. Are you like Beetlejuice? If I say your name three times, you appear?"

Despite the hostility practically radiating off Enjolras, Grantaire took a little step forward, quirking his eyebrow. "Why did you say my name three times?"

Enjolras flushed. "I...you..." he took a deep breath. "Are you here to ask me to come back?"

"I would never!"

Enjolras scoffed.

"Asking you to stay isn't the same as asking you to come back. Semantics are important, you know," Grantaire paused. "You seem happy here."

“I am.”

“No he’s not, he’s been miserable,” Courfeyrac stage-whispered.

“I was selfish trying to get you to stay. I was selfish trying to corner you at the gala. I’ve been selfish our entire relationship. I never meant to be, but I was, and I hurt you, and I am so, so sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” Enjolras said slowly. “I said some things I didn’t mean. I’m still upset with you, but I don’t regret the past two years.”

Grantaire felt the weight in his chest lift a little at that. “Well, I have something that might make you a little less upset with me.”

“What’s that?”

Grantaire turned on the TV.  A commercial for cold medicine was playing.

“Just, uh, wait a minute.”

They waited at least another two, through a car commercial, a cereal commercial, and a commercial that made no sense whatsoever.

“You know what…” Grantaire dug into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He found the video he wanted to show Enjolras. A video of a press conference he had held just an hour ago. He gingerly handed his phone to Enjolras and awaited his judgement.

_"Hi. I'm Francis Grantaire, which you all probably know."_

_The press chuckled politely._

_"I wanted to announce Corinth Industries’ plans for a certain contested community center in Brooklyn. My father has announced we will be demolishing the center and developing new apartment buildings with Louis Th_ _é_ _nardier. I'm here to tell you that is no longer the intention."_

_The press gasped. Cameras started clicking frantically._

_"Our company has been talking about building not only buildings, but communities. After much consideration we've decided that this new development with Th_ _é_ _nardier is a direct contradiction of those principles. So we will be severing all ties with Th_ _é_ _nardier, and focus on preserving the Brooklyn Community Center. The funds from our annual gala this  year will go towards revitalizing community centers around the New York area. Thank you."_

Enjolras looked up. For once in his life he was shocked.

"Grantaire, your dad will kill you."

"Nah, he won't kill me. Disinherit me, sure."

"He wouldn’t."

“He already did.”

Enjolras gripped Grantaire’s arm tightly. “He can’t! I can talk to him, and tell him I made you do the announcement.”

Grantaire shrugged. "I don't need much money. I own my apartment in my own right. I have some money my grandparents left me. And by some, I mean a lot. I'll be fine."

"Why did you do that?"

"I haven't been a man of my word in the past. But you make me want to be. I'm not a good person, but you make me want to be."

"You are a good person," Enjolras protested.

"I'm really not. But I want to try. I want to try and be someone that you could like and be friends with. Because I realized I'm in love with you, and I can't stand the idea of not being in your life any more."

"You're what?"

"Deeply, madly in love with you."

Enjolras looked dumbfounded. “Since when?”

“I’m honestly not sure. We’ll have to ask Marius.”

“Marius?”

“You were right in making me hire him. He’s a smart kid. He pointed out the fact that I’m in love with you, which I hadn’t realized. I should have, but it snuck up on me.”

Grantaire realized he was on the verge of babbling, so he shut up and looked expectantly at Enjolras, who was frozen in place. Grantaire could practically hear the wheels whirring in his brain. After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke.

“I never thought of you in that way.”

“Oh.” Grantaire took a step backwards. “Well, then I’ll just-”

“No, stop, I’m thinking.” Enjolras held out his hand expectantly. Grantaire took it. “I hadn’t thought of you in that way, but I think you snuck up on me too. You’ve been the most important person in my life for the past two years-”

Courfeyrac let out an indignant sputter which Enjolras didn’t deign to acknowledge.

“-and I want it to stay that way.”

“Okay,” Grantaire said.

“Okay?”

“Yes. For as long as you’ll have me, I’m yours. And I promise to be a much better boyfriend than I was a boss.”

Enjolras laughed, and tugged Grantaire in. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

“Please do.”

After that, Enjolras leaned in for a kiss, and there wasn’t much talking after that. There would be. There was still a lot to say, a lot Grantaire wanted to explain, to ask, to apologize and make up for. That time would come. For now, he was content holding the man he loved.

 

**_Two years later_ **

“It’s almost time,” Marius said, hurrying forward.

Grantaire nodded. Deep breaths. Today was just a culmination of everything he’d been working on in the past two years. After the press conference, he’d been not only disowned, but out of a job. To make matters worse, Richard had started to move to accelerate the community center’s demolition.

Luckily, Grantaire was dating a brilliant man who was friends with some other brilliant people. Enjolras, Combeferre, and Courfeyrac had sprung into action, pulling out all the legal stops they could to delay the demolition. They cited every obscure law or regulation to slow down the process. (Grantaire was pretty sure Bahorel helped them out. It was an accusation Bahorel vehemently denied). While Richard was tied up in court, Enjolras started digging. He found proof of Thénardier’s illicit business dealings. He was helped by an unlikely source: Cosette, fiancée of Marius and respected investigative reporter who just happened to be working on an exposé on Thénardier. Her and Enjolras’s research resulted in a devastating blow to Thénardier and his operation. Suddenly, Thénardier was toxic and Corinth Industries had to distance itself from all dealings with him. That was when Richard reached out to his son.

It wasn’t a heart-felt reunion; it was damage control. Grantaire’s press conference won him a lot of goodwill from the public. Richard needed to steal some of that goodwill, and try to show the press that Corinth Industries was a happy family buisness.  Grantaire didn’t really give a damn about Corinth Industries, but he gave a damn about the community center. To fix Corinth’s reputation, Richard agreed to foot the bill to renovate the center, which had taken two years to complete.

“You nervous?” Courfeyrac asked.

“I’d be less nervous if people stopped asking me questions!” Grantaire snapped. “Where’s Enjolras?”

“With Combeferre at the reception.”

Grantaire nodded, trying to discreetly pat his sweaty palms dry on his pants. He shouldn’t be nervous - today had been going so well. The ribbon cutting ceremony had gone off without a hitch just under an hour ago. It was his last day at Corinth Industries. He had given his father notice two weeks ago. Now he was going to use his sizeable trust fund and the connections he had made over the past two years to open a nonprofit that would continue to look after the community.

And he was proud of that. He really was. But all the same. If the next five minutes didn’t go according to plan, he was going to have to go home and cry in the bathtub.

Jehan glanced at his watch. “Good. They should be on their way. Are we all here?”

Grantaire looked around the large art classroom. It was the same room Enjolras had brought him to two years ago when he introduced him to Lamarque. She was there, standing by the doorway with Feuilly. Cosette and Marius were seated on top of one of the tables, while Bahorel settled for one of the comically tiny chairs. Joly and Bossuet stood by the whiteboard. Courfeyrac hovered by Jehan, keeping watch.

It proved unnecessary. Grantaire could hear Enjolras before any of them saw him.

“Why are we going to one of the classrooms? The reception is still going on. We’re members of the community center board. We have to mingle, Combeferre!”

“I forgot something back here.”

“Why were back here? Oh no. Were you and Courfeyrac doing something? Never mind. I don’t want to know.”

Grantaire gulped. They were getting closer.

“Where _is_ Courfeyrac?” Enjolras asked. “Where are all our friends?”

Combeferre poked his head through the door first. “Right here.”

Joly and Bossuet unfurled the banner that was hanging from the whiteboard just as Enjolras burst in. “What’s going on? Why are you all-oh.”

Enjolras turned from the banner to Grantaire, who dutifully dropped to one knee.

“That banner says ‘Enjolras will you marry me?’”

“Yeah,” Grantaire said from his position on the ground. “Will you?”

Enjolras stared at banner (which Grantaire had gotten the kids to help him decorate in one of the afterschool programs), to their friends, to Grantaire, then back at their friends. Combeferre nudged him.

“You have to give him an answer.”

“Oh. Right. I mean, yes!”

Grantaire jumped up and wrapped his arms around Enjolras. “Oh, thank God.”

“I’m planning the wedding!” Jehan shouted.

As the rest of their friends started cheering, Enjolras looked very seriously at Grantaire.

“I’m really glad I yelled at you that day and you decided to make me your Chief Counsel slash assistant.”

“Me too. You’re not going to quit on me again, are you?” Grantaire asked, half joking.

Enjolras very carefully took Grantaire’s face in his hands. “Not a chance.”

He brought their lips together, and Grantaire believed him.

**Author's Note:**

> This was such a blast to write, and there are some people who helped make this such a lovely experience:
> 
> [deermepadfoot](http://deermepadfoot.tumblr.com/) who kindly did some art for this piece, and who on top of being massively talented, is patient, sweet, supportive and all around awesome. 
> 
> [1001paperboxes](http://1001paperboxes.tumblr.com/) who beta'd this piece. I seriously cannot thank them enough. They read and reread this, and offered such good insight and critiques. I seriously love them. They are the best. 
> 
> Shoutout to [defractum](http://defractum.tumblr.com/) for being a wonderful mod and organizing all this. 
> 
> And finally a big thanks to you, the reader for taking the time to experience this story. I'd been wanting to write a Two Weeks Notice au for a really, really long time, but was always busy/working on other projects. So I'm very grateful for this Big Bang for giving the motivation I needed to actually post it, and for the opportunity to share it with all of you!
> 
> ( [come say hi](http://babesatthebarricade.tumblr.com/) )


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